Dress Code
by thir13enth
Summary: Mustang knew that this only way to get a peek at Hawkeye's legs. Royai, what else?
1. Scheming Sunday

**It's the holiday season. You know what that means—Royai!**

**Just as a note, this story takes place in a combo of alternate and original universe because I doubt certain articles of clothing even existed back in the days! Also characters may seem OOC—Mustang's hornier than usual and Riza's slightly naïve—but bear with me!**

**This story is going to be updated every day for this week—along the same lines as the story chapters, so happy Sunday and enjoy!**

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-Scheming Sunday-

Mustang bumped into Hawkeye on his way into the grocery store and it was by no means an accident.

Rather, a calculated coincidence, he just wanted to see her in her civvies, her_ normal_ wear. Her hair down and windswept, a blouse much better fitting than an army coat, and a tickle of wind hitching up her dress just a—

_Oh god, her calves, _he gasped, rather gutturally, his eyes grazing over the fair skin above her ankles.

His pants were suddenly a bit tight, and he knew he hadn't gained any weight.

The flame alchemist bit his lip to keep his fire contained.

Hawkeye, unfortunately, caught his eye.

"Colonel," she greeted curtly, stepping a couple steps towards him, her grocery basket at hand.

He was glad the basket came between them—otherwise something else might have done so.

"Hawkeye," he said, swallowing hard. "Fancy seeing you at the market."

She smiled. "I thought your nanny did your groceries for you."

"Uh," Mustang excused. "Well, haha, nope!"

That was a lie, but so was his excuse.

"I came to just see what was on sale. I'm not usually here."

"Mmm," she approved, before suggesting, "The carrots are well-priced."

He watched her take a rather large carrot and place it in her mouth. She chewed with gusto, he observed.

"And sweet," she added. "Definitely worth the money."

Mustang nodded slowly, watching the carrot in her hand. "Mmm," he repeated, "…the money."

"Well, I'll be off, Colonel," she said, spinning around on her heeled summer sandals and going off on her way home. The setting sun made her blond hair glint as it swayed with the gentle motion of her hips. Her figure was one that took a lot of effort to take his eyes away from, and he heard the rip when he tore his eyes away from his gorgeous lieutenant.

Walking home as normally as he could and avoiding mothers covering the eyes of their young children as they saw him pass by with a bulge in his pants, Mustang decided that he needed to find a solution.

**later**

"That's perfect!" Mustang erupted, slamming his hands down on Havoc's table. "You're a genius!"

"The general is going to be out for the week?" Havoc asked, trying to figure out his own intelligence.

"No, idiot," the colonel retorted. "It's a perfect opportunity!"

"Huh?"

Mustang bumped his own chest in pride.

No more drab uniforms. It was time to instate a new dress code.

"Wait, what are we doing?"

"I hereby declare tomorrow—Miniskirt Monday!"

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**Ah, now you get where he's going with this…**

**See you for tomorrow's update!**

**thir13enth**


	2. Miniskirt Monday

-Miniskirt Monday-

The plan was too brilliant to be foiled.

"Hey Lieutenant." Mustang tried not to sound too excited over the phone.

"Colonel."

"So guess what?"

"Colonel?"

"The general changed the dress code for this week—said it was time to bring the spirits up as the holiday season is nearing…I, uh, saw the notification earlier at the office yesterday."

In fact, Havoc and Mustang had only nailed the very-official-looking notice on the announcement board around five in the morning that Monday, after getting unanimous consent from the rest of the men in the office. Everyone was in on the dress code change.

It was the most effort that they put into work since their promotions.

"Ah."

"Right," he hurriedly said. "So for Monday, it's apparently a, um, miniskirt."

"Miniskirt?"

"Uh yeah…I just wanted to let you know."

"For _this _weather?"

Mustang froze, not just because some winter wind draft blew in through his window, but because it _was _the winter. He realized that they should have probably taken the weather into account.

"Guess so," he said. "It's ridiculous, isn't it?"

She didn't say anything, which made Mustang extremely worried. "…hey?"

"I'll have to see if I can find something. Thank you for informing me, sir."

"Oh, of course." These words were ushered out of him before he silently fist pumped the air.

**at the office**

Mustang was early that Monday morning—for good reason.

When Mustang saw all the other miniskirts while he was heading toward his desk, he knew he was starting off the week right.

"Mustang! Colonel!" Havoc saluted him. Fuery, Falman, Breda, and several other men, followed Havoc's lead immediately, standing up as the raven-haired alchemist walked into the room.

"You're saluting me very enthusiastically today," Mustang mused.

Havoc came towards his colonel, putting a hand on his shoulder in a grateful gesture. "Thank you—I can barely wait for Catalina."

Mustang took the appreciation as modestly as he could, putting his stuff down on his desk and taking a seat with a self-satisfied sigh. He gazed around the office, noticing the many-an-exposed leg around the workplace.

Definitely a good way to start the holiday season.

But then the real show began when Mustang noticed a familiar fair-skinned calf step through the doorway.

It was this moment when Mustang realized that he was _very much_ a legs kind of guy.

Watching her stroll in was—like rubbing silk all over his face, like tasting the last note of spicy flavor in a warm soup, like a melting ice cube running down the back of his dress shirt on a hot summer day, like rolling a milky sweet chocolate over his tongue, like anticipating the bass drop in a surround sound system room—simply indescribable.

He dropped his pen—and jaw—inadvertently.

Strong supple legs made their way slowly to Mustang's desk to check in for duty that day. Milky smooth, long and slender, a defined line of muscle with every step.

And of course, she wore heels to match her tight navy mini dress. Of course, his lieutenant managed to look good, no matter what the occasion or dress was.

The heels only managed to enhance her—ahem, well—ass and accentuate the length of her legs. And her calves! The perfect shape of the muscle on her calves, toned and firm. He just felt like running his lips over the slow curve of her legs, feeling her warm skin under his hands, following up…up…

He just _had _to find a way to get her to bend down and pick something up for him later today.

"Colonel," she greeted, saluting him quickly.

"L-lieutenant," he stuttered, struggling to meet her eyes. "You look…dazzling today."

Hawkeye smiled, which exploded Mustang's heart to bits and pieces—in a good way.

"Thank you, sir," she said, looking up to the 'general's notice' off the wall to the side. "So this is the announcement you were talking about, sir?"

He stuttered for a moment. "Uh, yes—yes, yes."

"Hm," she said to herself softly, as she read the next day's 'dress code.'

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**So, what'd you think so far? I'm taking suggestions (and reviews)! **

**thir13enth**

**Side note: I realize the bass drop simile was a bit too close to 2013 than the twentieth century, but I'm sure you know what I mean by a blissful experience like that. **

**Also, it seems like Mustang has a thing for calves. o_O**


	3. Tights Tuesday

**Oops, it seems I owe the world two chapters now. Well no matter, here they come. Thank you for the suggestions by the way! Next chapter will be the reader's choice!**

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-Tights Tuesday-

"Tights Tuesday, huh?" Catalina remarked to her blonde friend.

"It'd be warmer," replied Hawkeye, inadvertently crossing her legs to keep her body warmth between her legs.

Catalina mused on this. "Hm."

But then the brunette raised an eyebrow and leaned in to whisper loudly into Hawkeye's ear. "But don't you think all of this so strange? It's just our department doing this 'holiday' thing and I don't think this particularly helps the cheeriness of the whole place…"

The lieutenant just gave Catalina a firm smile.

"I'm sure it helps the day go by faster," she affirmed, taking care not to give the leery men on the other side of the room a threatening stare.

**tuesday the next day**

Hawkeye walked into the office in black tights on Tuesday morning.

Mustang was sorely disappointed.

"Oh, I thought it was tights today," he said, as nonchalantly as he could, noting that his lieutenant was just wearing the standard military uniform that day. Mustang sat far back in his chair, sucking in his great sadness.

She smiled. "I am, sir," she said, making her way to his desk. "There wasn't a mention that it was _only _tights, and it was cold outside."

Mustang looked back up on the sign that he had practically single-handedly authored. He grimaced to himself when he realized how loose the terms on the notice were.

Ah, what a shame. A waste of a hoax.

"It's funny, isn't it, sir?" Hawkeye continued her only-in-title superior (_though really quite inferior when it came to level of maturity_). "Usually the General is very specific in his orders."

The colonel wasn't going to let his defense down. "You're right. He must be testing his brevity."

She didn't even ponder for a second. "That's too bad that he's not here this week to figure that out."

"Y-yeah, I thought it was strange how immediate this 'holiday wear' notice went up on the board myself," Mustang laughed nervously. Once, then twice.

"Yes, very strange," she agreed, giving him yet another smile.

Her smile seemed much too knowing for his comfort and he immediately turned back to his paperwork, waiting out the light blush that reddened his cheeks.

He was ready with an excuse for that too. _Silly lieutenant, the cold outside is so frightful. Even my ears and cheeks turned frozen red._

Mustang waited for her to pass, and he could have sworn her steps turned more confident.

It was just the second day and she already knew. He quietly facepalmed, before making himself refocus on the work in front of him. He wasn't going to let a simple chat give him completely away.

Except when she had stood aside him on his side of the desk, he _had _enjoyed how _confrontationally close_ she was standing next to him…

Still worth it, he mused.

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**Thanks all for the reviews and the support in advance. I shall crank out the next in just a couple of moments.**

**Ah, and merry Christmas!**

**thir13enth**


	4. V-Neck Wednesday

**On goes the Christmas fiction!**

* * *

-V-Neck Wednesday-

V-neck didn't start with a W, but they figured it was close enough to make some sort of cute alliteration.

He was already anticipating Tuesday morning since the night previous. He had lay in bed the night before imagining the various kinds of v-necks—letting his mind wander to visualize deeper and deeper v-necks—so he was almost ready for anything.

Based on her clothing choice from yesterday, Mustang could only guess that her v-neck was going to be modest. Just a peek at her well-defined collarbones.

A man could imagine right?

But what a lucky man he was—Hawkeye seemed to be very forgiving about the depth of her collar that day.

She walked in with a military overcoat, no doubt. The colonel sank in his seat, thinking that she was going to be playing the 'not very specific guidelines' trick like she had on Tuesday. To his surprise, she pulled off her overcoat, revealing the back of a dark blue sweater that Mustang had never seen on her before.

Not that he kept track of what she wore outside of work.

That bump at the grocer's was just a one-time thing, he swore.

And then she turned around.

He knew that the military uniform shrank women's cup sizes down a few letters, but god _damn_ she had _cleavage._

Mustang smiled, biting his lip as he let the image sink and burn into the deepest crevices of his brain. He would lock that image in there forever.

Once his eyes were done recording, he glanced over at the other men of the office.

And it was then that he realized that it wasn't just him watching Hawkeye, but everyone else too.

Then Mustang felt a pang of something familiar. Something that he didn't feel all the time, but experienced every so often—when the guys were (immaturely) comparing and bragging about the size of each other's manhoods, when someone that had just started working immediately got a promotion from the General, when he overheard Hawkeye's friends suggesting that she date a certain other someone…

Jealousy?

The colonel shook the idea out of his head, refusing to admit.

**flashback to Sunday**

Mustang was out of ideas—as well as words that started with T—for the Thursday.

The two men pondered, running a closet of clothing types through their head (that would look very good as well) for a while. It wasn't until about a full fifteen minutes later when Havoc's eyes widened as though he had the ultimate plan—

"Topless Thursday!"

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**Please do review! (A virtual present!)**

**thir13enth**


	5. Tank Top Thursday

**Haha, I just realized that I had originally written this story with summertime in mind, but it seems that the holiday cheer turned the environment from summer on Sunday to winter by Monday! (Ah, a plot hole, how delightful.)**

**Enjoy!**

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-Tank Top Thursday-

"Absolutely not," Mustang said, slapping Havoc with his words.

Topless?

That was just taking it too far. There was no way that they would be getting away with that.

**on thursday**

In fact, they weren't getting away with it even now. And tank tops were extremely innocent in comparison.

Hawkeye did the same reveal as she did on Wednesday, keeping a military overcoat on until she was inside. Today, she wore a plain white tank top with her military bottoms. Her tank top was quite form fitting, showing off her waist to hip ratio and while Mustang grazed over her curves, he suddenly remembered something from the day before—that his eyes were not the only ones relishing the sight.

"Lieutenant," he suddenly said, ensuring his voice was loud enough to be heard through the entire office. He kicked his feet off his own table, hoping that would increase the amount of authority he had in the room.

She turned around slowly, an almost puzzled look on her face.

"It's too chilly for that kind of clothing," he continued. He looked back to his paperwork to avoid seeing the men around the office gawking at him.

Just in the silence, he could hear the other men asking him: _What the hell are you thinking? Are you _trying _to lose this opportunity?_

"Why don't you wear your coat over the…whatever you had to wear—tank-tops—today?"

He felt her watch him for a moment. He made sure his eyes were trained on his work, so that he'd seem nonchalant while he was saying this.

_He was not going to give away the fact that he was behind all this, no!_

"Of course, sir," she replied. "Thank you for being concerned about my well-being."

She slipped her overcoat back on, and Mustang felt himself breathe a sigh of relief.

He wasn't jealous, he told himself again. He was just acting the way he normally would if this whole ploy wasn't done by himself.

Over in the corner, he saw Hawkeye settling down for another day's work. She carried a light smile to her face, the corners of her eyes slightly turned up, and even while her mouth was rather taut, he felt a sort of smug atmosphere from her.

After many several years, he was able to read his longtime companion with just a glance, so usually his intuitions of her mood were correct. But smug?

Mustang pondered a bit while reading the same line of text over and over again. He guessed he didn't always pick out her correct mood. He could be wrong.

Right?

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**Thanks as always and please do drop a review!**

**thir13enth**


	6. Frilly Dress Friday

**And one more chapter after this one! A bit late with this one, but I'll finish up later today or tomorrow. :D Got caught up writing another story that struck my inspiration.**

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-Frilly Dress Friday-

"Dude, what was up with you yesterday? Why'd you have to announce it to the world like that?"

Mustang didn't look back at Havoc. "I just thought Hawkeye would be cold."

"Well you could have just told her in person—you didn't have to tell the entire world that you were suggesting it!" Havoc exclaimed. "What were you trying to accomplish there?"

"Nothing," Mustang answered, irked. "Nothing. I don't know."

"Just don't make it so obvious that you're up to no good! Otherwise we're _all _going to get busted!"

"Yeah, yeah," Mustang said, shooing Havoc off.

Havoc added another question before Mustang could push him away. "Today's the last day, isn't it, Colonel?"

"What gives?"

"Well, I have to make the best of today so…I brought cameras!"

"You what?!" Mustang asked, legitimately bewildered.

"Oh good morning, Lieutenant Hawkeye!"

Hawkeye?!

Mustang turned around, seeing Fuery greeting Hawkeye emphatically. Fuery and Hawkeye got into a lighthearted discussion about something Mustang could not hear about from all the way on the other side of the room.

Suddenly Fuery held Hawkeye by the waist—Mustang stood up in panic!—and turned around to smile at the camera that Havoc had conveniently brought out at that moment.

Mustang saw the smiles and the photo flash. And he was not happy.

After the click of the shutter and the flash, everyone in the office looked up and decided to join in the selfies-with-Hawkeye party.

Mustang was not amused. He made his way towards the festivities.

"Quiet!"

This broke the commotion. All the military personnel immediately turned to salute him—not wanting to be burnt to crisp with a snap of the colonel's fingers. "Colonel, sir!"

"Sorry to break the spirit, but please return to your desks and continue work," he commanded, in particular, looking Fuery and Havoc straight in the eye.

"And Lieutenant Hawkeye," Mustang said, rather stiffly, and almost in a whisper.

She acknowledged him, frills and all. "Sir?"

"Do you mind if we step outside to talk for a moment?"

She nodded, watching the constrained temper on his face. They moved outside of the office room, into the hallway outside.

"Hawkeye, could you please…change out of the dress and come back with in your uniform?"

"…It's the General's orders, sir."

"I…I don't care," Mustang finally said. "It's very…distracting."

Hawkeye looked down at the magenta frills. "Oh…does it look bad?"

"No, no, no no no, that's not what I mean. It…it doesn't matter—just please go back and change!" he exclaimed, exasperated. "This isn't what I wanted!"

Hawkeye raised an eyebrow. "Sorry…did you say, what _you _wanted?"

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**Well...someone's going to pay the price tomorrow...**

**thir13enth**


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